In an ideal world, a genealogist inherits the perfect family photograph — one in which relatives are thoughtfully posed in a well-lighted photography studio. Family members have passed down the photograph in pristine condition with the photographer’s imprint and logo clearly marked, and a legible note in pencil on the back indicating the date the photographer created the image and who is in the picture, along with where and why the photograph was taken. The sum total is a checklist of sorts — four questions everyone must ask when analyzing Jewish family photographs: who, where, when, why. Rounding out the ideal photograph is a full-length view of the family appearing in the latest fashions, replete with hats, jewelry, and clearly visible shoes — the costume clues.

In reality, for many Jewish genealogists such photographs, unfortunately, are rare. Most are fragmentary — bits of information on faded, stained, and undocumented cards with no sign of the “who.” Genealogists carefully and patiently translate the Russian or Yiddish or other languages anticipating a wealth of clues, only to find phrases no more useful than “wish you were here” and “Love, Tante.”

A colleague once described Jewish photo genealogy as archaeology on paper. Like the study of Jewish genealogy itself, in photo genealogy, genealogists paste together clues from a multitude of sources — family stories, newly found relatives, vital records and artifacts — always seeking authenticity. In The History of Photography, Beaumont Newhall best describes the pursuit of truth: “The quality of authenticity implicit in a photograph may give it special value as evidence, or proof … any photograph can be considered a document if it is found to contain useful information about the specific subject under study.” ¹ The dilemma, of course, is that before a photograph may be considered a document, it must itself be documented with supporting evidence that a certain person was present in a certain place at a certain time. More often than not, photo genealogy combines documentation and interpretation.

Such is the case of the family photograph I received from my client, Martha McDonald. The process of learning about her photograph brings the picture to life. It is the “vivification of fact,” to paraphrase Newhall’s paraphrase of Walt Whitman. ² “Who are these people in the photo?” Martha asked. They are strangers and yet with an indescribable familiarity, something reminiscent of a loved one, long-gone. Perhaps it is a look that tells that they could be family. Maybe, it is a way of holding one’s hands or tilting one’s head that announces, “I am they — they are me — we are the same.”

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1. Begin With What Is Known

Martha’s old family portrait had some of the ideal characteristics needed to analyze a photo, but also was lacking key information — identification of those in the picture. To successfully name unknown people in a photograph, you need a minimum of one extra photograph for comparison with the mystery picture. Obviously, the more photographs one has to compare with the unknown photograph, the better the outcome. Martha fortunately had two more photographs, taken at different time periods, to compare with the mystery picture. A genealogy sleuth herself, she suspected that the mystery photograph, a quartet of a man, a woman, and two girls, was from the Laufer side of her family, although the picture had no markings to show such and no sign of the date or the place. Lacking this information, we cannot answer the fourth “w” on our checklist, “why the photograph was taken.”

To start the photo identification of her mystery picture, Martha began with what she already knew. Her grandfather, Morris Laufer, had emigrated from Lodz, Poland, early in the 20th century and had settled in Texas. Martha had inherited this photograph, along with a number of other photographs from her father, Hyman Laufer, Morris’s son. She was told that her grandfather, Morris, was not in the photograph. This is the first clue to the identities in the mystery picture. We identify who is not in the photograph. To begin to identify the people who are in the photograph, Martha tried a number of means before contacting me for help in determining the date and place of the photograph. At its best, photo analysis is a collaboration of researcher and photo genealogist — one with the family history and the other with the objective eye and knowledge to see what often is overlooked by the family. Of course, the more family information provided, the greater the chance of documenting photographs and solving their mysteries.

Among the belongings that Martha inherited with her photograph was an old pocket address book. Judging from the worn pages, the differing handwriting in the book, and the out-of-date addresses, it was clear that it must have been owned by several different people over a long period. Along with various addresses in the Dallas area were the names and addresses of people she had never heard of from the United Kingdom. Suspecting that a photograph from the early 1950s showing an older couple with four adults and bearing a Glasgow photographer’s address on the back could also be of her Laufer family, she posted the photograph in The Jewish Telegraph, a newspaper published in the United Kingdom and distributed in several major cities in England and Scotland. A Glasgow man recognized the older male in the posted photograph as Joina Laufer, Morris’ brother. This man and Joina had lived in the same apartment building in Glasgow many years earlier. He gave Martha the building’s address, and it matched the UK address in the old address book she had inherited. In addition, the man was able to name two of the other faces in the photograph as Joina’s adult children. Because the photograph was known to have been taken in Glasgow in the 1950s, this confirmed that Morris’ brother, Joina, had left Poland for the UK before the date of this second photograph. This is the second clue to our mystery photo ID. Martha was able to track down Joina’s descendants and learned from them that Joina had immigrated to the UK in 1914. Could the young man in our mystery photograph be Joina? If so, in what year was the mystery photograph taken? This is when Martha called me in on the case.

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2. Use a Second Photograph To Help Identify Those in the First

Now knowing what the older Joina (about age 60) looked like, we return to our mystery photograph. A comparison of the Glasgow photograph with the photograph of the quartet confirmed that the young man with a bow tie, standing at the right in the mystery photograph was Morris’ brother, Joina. From the way in which the photographer has arranged the group, we may assume that this is a picture of a mother, her son, and her two daughters. Were the two girls in the photograph Joina’s sisters whose existence until now had been unknown to both the British and American branches of the Laufer family? Further confirmation of their relationship to Joina is clear with an examination of facial characteristics, notably the distinctive eyelids, noses, lips, and general shape of the face shared by all in the picture. From later photographs of Morris (not shown here), we again saw the family resemblance and concluded that the woman in the mystery picture is Morris’ mother, Trona Sochaczewska Laufer. Was the photograph taken in the UK or Poland? How do we learn about the sisters? Did the sisters emigrate? Did they have descendants? If so, are the descendants living in the UK, the U.S., or elsewhere? These are the questions we addressed next.

3. Use Written Documents As Evidence

Birth registrations from the city of Lodz obtained from the Polish State Archives document Morris’ birth in 1885 and Joina’s in 1891. A birth registration for their mother, Trona z Sochaczewska, gives her birth as November 15, 1860, and the registration on November 16 in Lodz, Piotrkow guberniya. Another document confirms her marriage to Chaim Laufer in 1879. To date, no birth documents have been found for the two girls in the photograph. How do we learn about the unknown daughters if we do not know their names? Can dating the photograph give us the girls’ names? Perhaps.

Although Joina’s 1914 immigration papers no longer exist, we were able to find the manifest for Morris’ immigration to the U.S., sailing on the S.S. Hannover from Bremen to Galveston on July 11, 1907. This document is vitally important to our documentation of the mystery family photograph because, as noted above, Morris is not in that picture. Thus, the photograph probably was taken after July 1907 and likely in Poland because of Morris’ absence. Had Morris still been in Poland, he probably would have been in a family portrait.

On Morris’ 1907 manifest, he names the closest relative left in Lodz as Chaim Laufer, his father — but Chaim also does not appear in the photograph. We know from family stories that Chaim did not emigrate from Poland. Further family history tells us that Morris’ second son, born in the U.S. in 1912, was named Hyman, and Joina’s first son, born in the UK in 1915, was named Hymie — two grandsons each named after Chaim Laufer, following Ashkenazic naming tradition. This indicates that Chaim likely died sometime between 1907 when Morris emigrated and 1912 when Hyman Laufer was born. Chaim’s wife, Trona, is wearing her wedding ring in the photograph. What does this show about the date of the photograph? If Chaim is not in the picture, is it because he has already died?

4. Use Clothing Clues To Unlock the Mystery of the Girls’ Identities

One of the keys to unlocking the mystery of the girls’ names is an analysis and dating of the photograph of Trona and her children based on clothing and hairstyle clues. We start with the group of four, previously identified as Trona Laufer; her son, Joina; and two daughters — our mystery photograph.

Starting with Trona seated in the middle, we see a woman, likely aged late 40s to early 50s, wearing a floor-length, belted dark dress with a collar to the chin, narrow sleeves ending in a bit of white lace trim at the wrist echoing the lace trim at her chin. Similar dresses can be seen on photographs from Bialystok, circa 1910. She is without a corset. Her sheitel (wig) is a pompadour style that was most popular in the United States during the years 1906—08, although some women continued to wear that style for several years afterward. While her sheitel is dark brown, Trona’s white eyebrows, barely visible in the photograph, reveal evidence of her age. In general, she is dressed appropriately for an older woman — that is, conservative and in a somewhat older fashion.

Next, we look at Joina, a young man appearing to be around 19 or 20, sporting a woolen three-piece suit, a jacket with cuffless sleeves, six-button single-breasted waistcoat with collar, stiff-collared white shirt with a bow tie. He is clean shaven; his hair neatly trimmed with a side part. His style reflects menswear in the 1907—12 period as seen in many advertisements of the time. Given that Joina is a stylish young man, he is wearing clothing that was contemporaneous with the period of his brother Morris’ emigration. Knowing the date helps us confirm Morris’ absence from the photograph.

Seated in front of Trona is her presumed younger daughter, appearing to be approximately six to eight years old. She is wearing a schoolgirl outfit from around 1909—10, a dark, high-collared blouse with visible buttons down the front, an apronlike skirt with bands of contrasting, cream-colored horizontal soutache at the shoulders, waistline and trim on the lower skirt. Like the sleeves on the outfits of her mother and older sister, the sleeves on the younger daughter’s dress are tucked, a style that appeared in many fashion magazines and catalogs in the U.S. and abroad starting in 1909. The front laces of her leather boots and her dark stockings underneath are visible. Her hair is parted in the middle in a simple style. Being so much younger than her siblings, she is a later-in-life child for Trona and Chaim. Her probable birth year is between 1902 and 1904.

Finally, we describe the older girl standing with her hand on the chair behind her younger sister’s head. Her hairstyle, like her sister’s, is uncomplicated — side-parted with a neat bun in back. By 1910—11, many younger women both in the U.S. and Europe began to abandon the fashion for large volumes of hair needed to support huge hats in favor of a more natural look. Given the modesty of dress of Eastern European Jewish families, it is not surprising that her hair is styled simply and is appropriate for her age group. She is wearing a light-colored, lace-fronted shirtwaist with a high collar, slight gathering at the shoulders, and narrow, tucked sleeves, a style popular in the U.S. and in Europe during that time period. A simple belt unifies the shirtwaist and the skirt. Like her mother, she does not wear a corset. Her dark skirt falls over her hips to just short of her ankles, revealing her side-buttoned leather boots, in fashion in larger cities everywhere during 1909—14. The hem of her skirt is shorter than her mother’s. Shorter skirts were considered appropriate for teenage girls, ages 14—17 in the 19th century and well into the first decade of the 20th century. After age 17, in America as well as in Europe, girls were considered women, and their skirt lengths were the same as their mothers, that is, floor length during this time period. Comparable photographs from England, France, Poland, Russia, and other countries show girls under the age of 17 wearing shorter dresses than their mothers.

The length of the older girl’s skirt is a key clue in establishing her identity. In an article in The Farm Journal, published in the U.S. in September 1910, entitled “How to Dress, Hints for Home Dressmakers,” the unidentified author states, “…the proper length of skirts for growing girls is decided by the girl’s height. For 12 years and under, the skirts should cover the knees, and as the girl grows older, the skirt is lengthened gradually, so that by the time she reaches 15, they should almost reach her shoe tops. From that time on they gradually descend to the ankles.” 3 The older daughter’s boots extend above her ankle, and her hem covers the top part of the boot, but is not yet at ankle level. This marks her as a teenager about 15—17 years old. Of course, personal choices were always involved, but, in general, this is the rule followed by most dressmakers of the time regardless of where they lived. Given the fashion clues in the mystery photograph, we may conclude that this picture was taken circa 1909—10 in Poland. Knowing the date gives us the older girl’s approximate birth year as between 1894 and 1896.

The older daughter is also a student, perhaps having just graduated or perhaps enrolled in a university, as evidenced by the diploma-like scroll in her hand. This undoubtedly would be a source of pride for the family, who would be eager to share this event with Morris, their brother and son in America. At that time in Poland, students were subject to compulsory education until age 14. The first matriculation of women at Polish universities began in 1894. By 1897, they were allowed to study philology and in 1900, medicine and pharmacy. Although the family has no concrete proof that this older girl matriculated in an institute of higher learning, the picture provides another clue for where to seek records for the older daughter.

Another clue to the identity of Trona’s elder daughter comes from Trona’s own birth registration that documents her mother as Minki Rany z Cale, born 1829. Minki (Minka) died before Trona’s marriage in 1879 according to family history. If the elder daughter in the photograph is Trona’s firstborn daughter, she may be named after her grandmother. Likewise, the younger daughter may be named after Chaim’s mother, Marjem z Goldstajn. Of the three girls surnamed Laufer born between 1902 and 1904 in the JRI-Poland records, there is a Fajga, a Fajga Blima and a Golda Rywka. As far as Martha knows, there is no history of a Fajga in her family. Further evidence is needed to confirm the hypotheses of the Laufer girls’ names.

A search of indexed records on JRI-Poland for the surname Laufer from Lodz lists 11 records for girls born between 1894 and 1896. A total of three birth records exist for girls surnamed Laufer from Lodz born between 1902 and 1904. To date these records have not been ordered from the Polish State Archives, but it is the next logical step for Martha in her search for the daughters’ names. By dating the photograph, we have eliminated a number of other girls born either before or after the determined birth years.

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5. Use a Third Photograph for Additional Clues

Yet a third photograph of the Laufers offers a glimpse into the changing relationship status within the Laufer family, as well as more confirmation of the age of the younger Laufer daughter. This photograph is similar in style to the circa 1910 photograph and probably was taken in the same photography studio in Lodz. Here, we see an older Trona seated and her daughter standing. A visual comparison identifies the daughter as the younger child in the mystery picture. Now she is a stylish young woman of about 21. Trona and her daughter are the only ones in the photograph, which leads us to surmise that the older sister is no longer in Lodz. Perhaps she is now married or has emigrated, leaving the younger daughter to take care of her mother; their father, Chaim Laufer, having died sometime between 1907 and 1910 as shown by his absence from the circa 1910 photograph, and Joina having emigrated in 1914. To date, no immigration records for either daughter have been located, nor any Pages of Testimony found, though we make the assumption that the younger daughter remained in Poland, at least until Trona’s death, because neither the U.S. family nor the UK family had any knowledge of either of Trona’s daughters. The key to learning the fates of the two daughters will depend on learning their given names.

An investigation into the fashion clues in this third picture places the photograph circa 1924. Trona still wears a dark sheitel, but now it is updated to a Marcel-waved bob. Her striped middy dress with sailor collar, dating from 1922 onwards, is still long for the time. Notice also that Trona no longer wears her wedding ring.

Her daughter’s hair, also a bob, is coiled to cover her ears. Her straight-lined, drop-waisted dress with narrow belt reaches nearly to her ankles, a length typical of pre-1925 styles. Similar patterns to the wool embroidery scroll pattern around her square neckline and on her sleeves have been noted on dresses and blouses from 1921 to 1923. Finally, the photographer thankfully included the daughter’s shoes, one-strap Mary Janes with side buckle and rounded toes worn by many, in all but the upper classes, until the late 1920s.

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 Conclusion

In the end, while the comparison of all three photographs has helped us confirm the identities of the people in our mystery photograph, it has not yet documented the daughters’ names and fates. It has, however, brought us closer to the answers and opened paths to potential sources for further information. It has established the dates of the photographs, the place in which they were taken, the relationships within the Laufer family and the approximate birth years of the three Laufer children appearing in the mystery photograph. In addition, the analysis narrowed down the year of death of Trona’s husband. Having learned the parameters for the dates of major life events in the Laufer family, the search for their documentation will be easier. More questions have been asked; more theories formulated. Photo genealogy, like all genealogical and archaeological pursuits, is an ongoing process and a collaborative one as well. What we have learned of the personal choices made by Trona and her children have given us insight into their personalities and brought them to life in a way that mere names and dates on a family tree cannot.

The next step is to order archival records. The worst case scenario is that documents received do not belong to Martha’s family or that documents do not exist for the two daughters. The best case scenario, of course, is the “aha! moment” of finding the correct documents for the Laufer daughters and putting names to the faces in the photograph — thus identifying them for future generations.

The following article is based on a photograph included in the lecture, “Clued-In: Case Studies from Sherlock Cohn, The Photo Genealogist,” presented at the IAJGS Conference on Jewish Genealogy held in Los Angeles in July 2010 — Ed.

Notes

1. Beaumont Newhall, The History of Photography from 1839 to the Present, completely revised and enlarged, 5th edition, (New York: The Museum of Modern Art, 2009), p. 235.
2. Ibid, p. 238
3. “How to Dress, Hints for Home Dressmakers,” The Farm Journal, vol. 34 (September 1910), Farm Journal, Inc., Wilmer Atkinson Company, Philadelphia, Vol. XXXIV, September 1910, p. 450.